Lover Revealed (Black Dagger Brotherhood #4)(123)

“Whose vein was it?”

“Jasim’s.”

“Whoa. She’s hot.”

“Whatever.” Blay leaned to the side, grabbed a sweatshirt, and pulled it over his hips. Like he had something worth covering up there.

Qhuinn tracked the movement. So did John.

“Did you have her, Blay?”

“No! Believe me, when the transition hits, sex is not on your mind.”

“But I’ve heard afterward—”

“No, I did not do it with her.”

“Okay, that’s cool.” But clearly Qhuinn thought his buddy was nuts. “So what about the change? What did it feel like?”

“I…I broke apart and came back together.” Blay drank deeply. “That’s it.”

Qhuinn flexed his little hands, then curled them into fists. “Do you feel different?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“Christ, Qhuinn—”

“What do you have to hide? We’re all going to go through it. I mean…shit, John, you’ve got to want to know, right?”

John looked at Blay and nodded, hoping like hell the two would keep talking.

In the quiet that followed, Blaylock stretched out his legs. Through the new blue jeans he had on, his heavy thigh muscles bunched and relaxed.

“So what do you feel like now?” Qhuinn prompted.

“Myself. Only…I don’t know, so much stronger.”

“Niiiiiice.” Qhuinn laughed. “I can’t wait.”

Blaylock’s eyes shifted over. “It’s not something to look forward to. Trust me.”

Qhuinn shook his head. “You are so wrong about that.” There was a pause. “Do you get hard a lot now?”

Blay turned the color of a barn. “What?”

“Come on, you had to know that one was coming. So do you?” Silence stretched out. “Hello? Blay? Answer the question. Do you?”

Blay rubbed his face. “Um…yeah.”

“Often?”

“Yeah.”

“You work it, right? I mean…you must. So what’s that like?”

“Are you out of your f*cking mind? I’m not—”

“Just tell us once. We won’t ask you again. Swear. Right, John?”

John nodded slowly, aware he was holding his breath. He’d had dreams, erotic dreams, but that wasn’t the same as it actually happening. Or getting to hear about it firsthand.

Unfortunately, Blaylock seemed to have clammed up.

“Christ, Blay…what’s it like? Please. All my life I’ve been waiting for what you have. I can’t ask anyone else…I mean, like I’m going to my father with this shit? Just spit it out. What does it feel like to come?”

Blay picked at the label on his beer. “Powerful. That’s what it’s like. It’s just this…powerful rush that builds up and then…you explode and drift.”

Qhuinn’s eyes closed. “Man, I want that. I want to be male.”

God, that was exactly what John hungered for.

Blay chugged his Corona, then wiped his mouth. “Of course, now…now I want to do it with someone.”

Qhuinn cracked one of his half smiles. “What about Jasim?”

“Nah. Not my type. And we’re done with this. Conversation’s over.”

John glanced at the clock, then shuffled to the edge of the bed. With a quick scribble, he wrote on his pad and flashed it. Blay and Qhuinn both nodded.

“Good deal,” Blay said.

“You up for hanging tomorrow night?” Qhuinn asked.

John nodded and stood up—only to stumble and have to catch himself on the mattress.

Qhuinn laughed. “Look at you, punk. You’re faced.”

John just shrugged and concentrated on getting himself to the door. As he opened it, Blay said, “Yo, J?”

John glanced over his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow.

“Where can we learn that sign language thing?”

Qhuinn nodded and popped open another beer. “Yeah, where?”

John blinked. Then wrote on his pad, The Internet. Search for American Sign Language.

“Good deal. And you can help us, right?”

John nodded.

The two went back to the TV and fired up another game. As John shut the door, he heard them laughing and he started to smile. Only to feel the sting of disgrace.

Tohr and Wellsie were dead, he thought. He shouldn’t be…enjoying stuff. A real man wouldn’t get distracted from his goal, from his enemies…for nothing more than the company of friends.

John weaved down the hall, throwing one arm out to balance.

Trouble was…it felt so good to just be one of the guys. He had always wanted to have friends. Not a big group or anything. But a few, solid, strong…friends.

The kind you could rely on ’til death. Like brothers.



Marissa did not understand how Butch survived what happened to his body. It just seemed impossible. Except this was, evidently, what males went through, particularly warriors. And as he was of Wrath’s line, he definitely had that thick blood in him.

When it was over, hours later, Butch lay on the table in the now frigid room, just breathing. His skin was waxy and covered with sweat like he’d run twelve marathons. His feet hung off the far edge of the gurney. His shoulders were nearly twice as big, and his boxers were stretched tight over his thighs.